Lavender
by Barbako
Summary: The Cutie Mark Crusaders are taking a cutie mark survey of Ponyville, and come to the last house on their list. Everything goes well at their final stop, until the girls meet Lavender.
1. Chapter 1

Lavender by Barbako

It was a bright, sunny Sunday in Ponyville, and the town was as busy as one would expect from such a beautiful day. The energy out and about the town center was twofold, as the most recent scheduled rain had taken place yesterday, which had been a fairly unpopular decision amongst the schoolponies in the area. After all, it was the last day of Spring Break, and starting tomorrow they would have less time to play, and more time to sit in stuffy old schoolhouses until the Summer Sun Celebration. Three young fillies in particular seemed to be trying to cram as much into this one day as possible, although it wasn't the fun and games most of their classmates were up to. As the day went on, the blur of a scooter and wagon drew less and less attention from the townsfolk, who were one by one caught up in the latest antic of the Cutie Mark Crusaders; town-wide cutie mark surveying.

"Just one house left, Crusaders!" Apple Bloom exclaimed, checking off the second-to-last house on the makeshift street map she had drawn up. "Ah can't believe we managed tah cover the whole town before nightfall, bu' we did it!"

"We couldn't have done it without you, Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle praised, clutching the notes she'd taken on the cutie marks of all the ponies of age in town, which got progressively sloppier and shorter as they went. "You can tear across town on this scooter like nopony else!"

"Aw, there's nothing to it, really," the tiny Pegasus insisted. "Besides, now that _these_ are finally growing out more, I can _really _get my momentum going!" Scootaloo revved up her growing wings, as if to demonstrate before zooming over to their final destination. Indeed, she had gotten even more adept at "scooting" around in the months since the Cutie Mark Crusaders formed, and the other two fillies had subtle signs of growth as well, compared to themselves on the day they became friends. One thing remained the same, however; none of them had earned their cutie marks yet. They were growing ever more impatient, which – to the surprise of many of the adult ponies – made them more methodical in their search for their special talents. Unfortunately, none of their efforts had paid off yet, increasing the frustration of the mares who knew them best, and who knew that the girls' cutie marks were practically under their noses, if they were only to look inside instead of outside, for once.

"Wow, look at all the flowers!" Sweetie Belle gasped in awe at their last stop. It was a cozy little brick house in the corner of Ponyville, covered with purple-flowered vines and surrounded by small flowers of every color on the ground. Scootaloo parked the scooter and wagon at the beginning of the dirt path leading to the door, and the trio took off their helmets and prepared their best door-to-door faces before ringing the doorbell.

"Yes, who is it?" A motherly mare's voice called out, before opening the door. She was a homely middle-aged earth pony with a delicate pink coat, wavy dark red mane and tail, deep green eyes, and a single purple rose bud for a cutie mark. She smiled welcomingly at the girls, and a bit knowingly as well. When she smiled, it gave a glimpse into the beauty she must have held when she was young. "I think I know why you're here," she said before Apple Bloom could introduce the group. "You're the fillies that are going around town asking everypony about their cutie marks, aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am!" Apple Bloom said with a small, excited hop. "If t'aint too much trouble, would you and your family kindly tell us your cutie mark stories?"

"I don't see why not." The mare turned around, looking back at the group. "Come on in for some tea, my husband and I will talk with you while I make supper."

"Tea?" Scootaloo tried to hide an expression of exasperation, glancing at the setting sun. A discreet knee to the leg from Apple Bloom, and the Pegasus put her salespony face back on. "Err, I mean, we wouldn't want to… impose on you at dinnertime. Maybe you can give us the… uh, abridged versions?"

"Oh, don't be so shy," the mare laughed, "My husband and I love having company over for dinner. You can all have some warm hay loaf with your tea, if you'd like…"

"Hay loaf?" Sweetie Belle perked up and smiled brightly, turning to Scootaloo with a pleading look.

"Well, it'd be awful rude to turn down your hospitality…" Apple Bloom also faced Scootaloo, who did all she could not to sigh and roll her eyes.

"Alright, we'll go in and listen… it is the last stop, so I guess there's no use in rushing," she reasoned to herself out loud.

"Well then, where to begin…"

The mare sat the three fillies down at the rather large circular dining table in the main room of the house. Before beginning her own story, the mare introduced herself as Petunia, and her husband Puddle Jumper. The slightly aged earth pony gentlecolt smiled politely, if a bit awkwardly, at the young fillies. His coat was a dull blue, with a tousled gray mane and tail that were starting to go white, but his bright blue eyes belied his age. His cutie mark, fittingly enough, was a puddle with ripples radiating from the middle. Petunia set the tea set and hay loaf down, and began telling her story while stirring a carrot stew on the stove. Sweetie Belle prepared to take down notes on both of the stories, and the other two fillies listened intently, eating and drinking as quietly as possible, so as to hear every word.

Petunia explained that she was born into a family of florist ponies, in a small village a ways off from Ponyville. Much like the house they were in at the moment, their store was a brick building surrounded by flowers, only on a much grander scale, being the center of what could almost be called a flower field, spreading throughout the village and plains behind the house. She had gotten her cutie mark at a very young age, as she grew her first small garden of multicolored roses on her own. To her family's amazement, every last one of the roses came out purple, one of the colors they had the most trouble breeding recently. It turned out that any flower that Petunia paid careful attention to turned out purple, thus her purple rosebud cutie mark appeared. The mare laughed as she recalled having to be very careful not to do anything more than a quick watering of any flowers her family did not want to turn purple; as she grew older, she became aware of the certain touch that she gave to make purple flowers, and could control her talent with ease.

Puddle Jumper looked a bit embarrassed as he was urged to tell his story by his wife, but soon found himself also smiling at fond memories. There wasn't nearly as much to his history and cutie mark story as there was to Petunia's, and so it took much less time to tell. He was well into the age where a pony gets their cutie mark, though not late enough to be cause for concern. It was a particularly rainy autumn day in Ponyville, and he had grown bored of indoor activities that afternoon. While his mother wasn't looking, he snuck out of the house against her warnings of catching a cold, played around town until the street lights turned on, and he returned home to his worried parents. His mother prepared for the worst that night and the next morning, but three days went by, and Puddle Jumper was as healthy as he has ever been. Almost as soon as his mother let a sigh of relief, the colt's flank tingled, and a puddle appeared, signifying his ability to play and work in rain and not get sick. He mentioned that it was especially helpful, since Petunia couldn't seem to even look out the window at rain before falling ill, and was almost afraid to leave her bedroom yesterday. This caused her to lose her gentle composure for the first time since the fillies arrived, causing them to giggle cheerfully with the gentlecolt.

"See, guys? You _can_ get your cutie mark by getting into trouble sometimes!" Scootaloo grinned mischievously at her friends, unusually satisfied with this cutie mark story. As Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle glanced nervously at each other at this conclusion, Scootaloo turned back to Petunia, who was almost done cooking dinner. "So, does anypony else live here, or is it just the two of ya?"

Petunia and Puddle Jumper glanced at each other, then the door to the loft, at the top of a staircase mostly concealed by flower pots.

"Well," the gentlecolt clear his throat nervously, "we do have a daughter, but she's not much for company, and-"

"And I'm sure it would do her well to socialize with someone other than her dull old parents for a change. Why don't you go introduce yourselves and invite her down for dinner?"

Petunia scarcely finished her suggestion when the fillies tore up the staircase and knocked on the door enthusiastically. Puddle Jumper wore a panicky expression in the absence of the girls and mouthed to his wife, _What are you thinking?_ In response, he only received one of her knowing, calmly confident smiles. He sighed and fiddled his hooves, looking down at the table. There was no arguing with his wife; he may have possessed the stronger physical fortitude, but when it came to a battle of wills, the mare always won out, and she knew it.

"Excuse me, miss?" Apple Bloom called to the pony on the other side of the door. "Your mother's almost finished makin' dinner, and we'd like for you to come down an' talk to us!"

No answer. Sweetie Belle looked worriedly down at Petunia, who only gave her a look she was familiar with from her sister, Rarity. _Give it time._

"Hey, uh, miss?" Scootaloo picked up after a pause. "We're not trying to sell you anything, so will you come join us and your folks for dinner?" Apple Bloom shot her a look. "… please?"

A quiet, tense moment passed by before the sound of hooves on wood approached the door, which slowly creaked open to reveal the front half of a female pony. It was hard to place her age; she didn't look to be a full-grown mare, but there was something in her face that said she was no longer a filly. She looked to be the age where a pony was neither filly nor mare, and often doesn't even know what to call herself. She had a grayish-purple coat, dark purple hair that had her mother's waves and her father's slightly messiness, and somewhat dull brown eyes behind round black-framed glasses. She was fairly pretty, as her mother must have been, but hadn't seemed to grow into herself yet. She eyed the ground at first, before her view moved to the fillies' eyelines, though she caught a glance at their bare flanks. "H-hello," she finally spoke. Her voice was quiet and wavering, almost reminding the trio of Fluttershy. This was a different kind of quietness, though, and seemed to come from a combination of physical and mental instability instead of simple shyness. "I, uh… you can tell my mom to bring my dinner up to my room. I'm… not feeling well tonight."

The girls were visibly disappointed, no longer trying to keep their door-to-door poker faces. "Why won'cha come down and talk with us? It might make you feel better!" Apple Bloom encouraged.

"We're friendly, promise!" Sweetie Belle pleaded simply, her genuine expression causing the purple pony to feel a pang of guilt.

"Your mom said it'd be good for you to come out of that room for a change!" The whole of Equestria seemed to go quiet after Scootaloo took her turn, Apple Bloom glaring at her and Sweetie Belle putting her front hooves to her mouth in shock. "What? They basically said that, right?" The winged filly, letting her true self come out moreso than the other two, turned back to the now-cowering pony. The hurt on her face broke through Scootaloo's usual tough front, bringing out a wince and a stuttering, mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Lavender?" Petunia called from downstairs, seemingly oblivious to the chatter upstairs. "Please, dear, do come down for dinner. It's been so long since you've seen new faces at the table."

The fillies looked up at Lavender, who was clearly fighting back tears and shaking. She squeezed her glimmering eyes shut and moved to close the door, when Sweetie Belle gently kept it open with a hoof. She didn't meet any resistance.

"I know how scary it can be to meet new people," the small unicorn began softly. "And I know how much you want to just hide away and pretend that big crowd of faces you don't know doesn't exist. But you have to come out of your shell sometimes, or else you're gonna miss out on a lot!"

Sweetie Belle's uncharacteristic moment of small wisdom seemed to strike a chord with the pony behind the door. Lavender choked back a sob and began to open the door slowly again. The Crusaders began to perk up with hope, and Apple Bloom took the initiative and pushed the door open, trotting inside.

"Ah'm so happy ya came 'round! Now, see, there t'aint nothing to… be scared… of…" She slowly came to a halt as Lavender came into full view, though still partially obscured by the door to Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo.

"What's wrong, Apple Bloom? See a ghost in that dusty old attic?" Scootaloo joked before following, and stopping in her tracks upon noticing the same thing. Sweetie Belle had followed quietly behind, and all three pairs of eyes were on Lavender, now cowering on all bent fours on the floor, whimpering with her eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing freely.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were looking at something they had never heard of; a nearly, if not completely, full-grown pony, with an unmistakably blank flank.


	2. Chapter 2

Lavender buried herself in her worn, faded purple sheets and sobbed quietly, her whole body still shaking from what had just happened. Her door was shut tight and there was a bowl of carrot stew on a small circular table, still warm, but the steam slowing as the heat faded away. She loved her mother's stew, but she couldn't eat right now. Even if she was physically able to, she wouldn't be able to enjoy it at all. She had overheard the conversation downstairs and knew exactly what was coming, and tried her best to avoid going downstairs and explaining herself to three young, hopeful fillies. However, her resolve crumbled easily with the sweet words of one filly, and the eagerness of another led to her unceremonious reveal as what she thought was the last thing they needed to see right now. A thing which was not unheard of among ponies, but which was quite rare, and even more rarely spoken of, especially to young colts and fillies. _More of a "thing" than a pony, _Lavender thought. _What kind of fully-grown pony doesn't have a cutie mark?_

Falling into old thoughts that she did her best to avoid every day, Lavender let out a new wave of sobs, clutching a tear-stained pillow. For the first time in what must have been years, she felt completely vulnerable and exposed. But most of all, she felt something which always lingered under her surface, but was now front and center in her mind, dominating her feelings.

She felt broken.

"I'm so sorry," Apple Bloom slowly and carefully apologized, her voice flat with lingering shock, and her accent all but fading away for a moment. "If ah hadn't been so… so _stupid_, Lavender wouldn't be…"

"It's alright, dear," Petunia patted the young earth pony on the shoulder gently. She glanced over at her husband, who was sitting in the living room, fuming quietly over his dinner, which he was barely sipping. The fillies were terrified that he would be angry, but Petunia knew that, more than anything, he himself was hurt. "It's… not the first time this kind of thing has happened."

"But… what kind of… I mean…" Scootaloo fumbled with her words, both out of caution and utter confusion. "Is she younger than she looks, or something? I mean, I know some fillies grow early, but if she looks almost like a mare at, what, ten years old…?"

"Twenty-two." All of the ponies in the kitchen turned to face the voice in the living room. Puddle Jumper, still facing away from the group, gulped inaudibly, trying to contain his emotions and keep his voice steady. "She's twenty-two years old." The three fillies had their shock renewed and turned back to gaze aimlessly into their stew bowls, which remained untouched. Petunia sighed and sipped her cup of tea slowly.

"Is… she okay?" Sweetie Belle asked hesitantly, looking up at the mare. "I mean, not right now, I know she's upset, but… she looked kind of sick and said she didn't feel well."

"She… isn't the healthiest filly, no." Petunia looked down into her cup of tea sadly. She was visibly uncomfortable talking about such things, being used to keeping a cheerful demeanor. "I'm afraid she didn't inherit either of our strengths, but instead got the worst of us."

"That's a terrible thing tah say!" Apple Bloom exclaimed, mildly startling Petunia. "How can y'all say that about your own daughter?"

"We… spent a long time hoping she wasn't like that." The mare's words were sad, but firm. "We kept telling Lavender, and ourselves, that she would grow into a fine pony, and that she was just a late bloomer. And then…"

"She never bloomed." Sweetie Belle interrupted, bluntly, but delicately. Apple Bloom seemed to take a particular emotional sting from the choice of words.

"She was bullied terribly at school. I tried to teach her to stand up for herself, but she always seemed to fall apart anytime she was confronted. Her teacher took a more active role in protecting her after a while, but Lavender… she still hurt from being excluded. She never seemed to be able to keep a friend. And then she got older, and she…" Petunia trailed off for the first time since they had met her, but she didn't need to say anything. The three girls knew full well how a filly who was late in getting her cutie mark would be treated by her peers, but couldn't imagine how much Lavender suffered.

"It seemed like she was getting worse every day that she spent at school. She started falling ill more often than usual, and at first we thought maybe she was faking it to avoid going to school. We brought a doctor to come see her, and he told us that it was very real, and… said that perhaps she shouldn't go to school anymore."

"But… I thought fillies _had_ to go to school until they're old enough?" Scootaloo questioned, recalling the many times she expressed the wish to stop going to school to adults.

"Well, she didn't stop studying, even though she didn't actually go to the school anymore," Petunia continued, almost mechanically at this point. It seemed like she had answered these questions before. "The teachers would bring a copy of the lesson plans over to us, and we would teach her as we could… towards the end of her schooling, she pretty much taught herself. It seemed like all she ever did was study just enough to get by, and then read old pony tale books that she's had since she was a little filly." The pink mare smiled sadly. "And… it seems like she's still reading those same books, after all these years. She hardly leaves her room anymore."

There was a long stretch of silence. Scootaloo stared almost angrily into her cold stew, Apple Bloom was on the verge of tears, and Sweetie Belle had already been weeping quietly for some time. Across the house, Puddle Jumper did all he could to keep his own tears from being known, remaining silent and forcing himself to take small mouthfuls of stew.

"Ah'm so sorry," Apple Bloom said again, more naturally this time, but just as sadly as the first. "If… if there's anything we can do, anything at all…"

"It's enough that you feel that way, dear." Petunia nuzzled Apple Bloom's mane gently. "Right now, you little ponies should be heading home. Your families must be wondering where you are."

"Oh gosh, what time is it?" Sweetie Belle exclaimed with a surprising clarity through her tears, looking out the window. "Rarity is probably worried sick about me!"

"I'm probably gonna catch it from Sis, too," Apple Bloom winced, taking a quick sip of her stew, which like the others, had barely been touched. Petunia turned to her dish cabinet, and took out three odd wooden bowls, with hinged covers and carrying straps.

"Here, you all can take your stew home with you in these," she explained as she carefully began pouring Sweetie Bell's untouched stew from one bowl to the other. "It keeps for a good few days, so don't rush yourself into eating it, and feel free to bring the bowls back whenever you have time."

"Thanks," Scootaloo managed to mumble awkwardly, but genuinely thankfully. She had probably eaten more of her dinner than anypony else in the house, and felt somewhat guilty about it.

"That's awful kind of ya, Miss Petunia," Apple Bloom said, putting her head through her bowl's strap as Petunia finished filling it. "Ah'll be sure to bring this back as soon as ah can."

"I hope we can talk to Lavender and apologize next time we're here," Sweetie Belle said, already standing by the front door with her bowl around her neck, her heart lingering with this family, although she was eager to return to hers.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," Petunia smiled, knowing she was telling a half-lie. Truthfully, she had no idea how her daughter would react to the fillies' compassion, but she remained hopeful that it could only help. She kept her gently optimistic disposition as she saw the girls out the door, received more words of gratefulness and sympathy, and watched as Scootaloo pulled their wagon away into the twilight. When the girls were out of sight, she let out a tired sigh and went back into her house.

"I'm not sure why you expected anything different," Puddle Jumper said in a low voice, still not facing his wife. He was still partially hidden behind the shell he put up whenever something like this happened, being much less adept at handling this kind of situation than Petunia had become over the years. Puddle Jumper was not a pony who was prone to anger, but when it came to discussing his daughter with others, he had a tendency to lash out at them for insulting her, if he wasn't falling apart in tears when they sympathized. Eventually, he grew tired of exposing his emotions, and left his wife to take the brunt of the stress that came with nights like this one. He couldn't help but feel guilty about it, even though they both knew that this way meant the least amount of hurt feelings.

"She's still young, dear. It's not unheard of for cutie marks to appear in adulthood…"

"And what if she's one of the ones who never gets one at all?" Puddle Jumper kept his voice low, so as to be unheard by Lavender, but remained firm and looked his wife in the eyes. His bright blue eyes faintly shined with tears, which he was very careful not to let escape. "You know as well as I do that for every pony who gets their cutie mark late, there's one who never has one for a day in their life." Petunia, weary with emotion, tensed a bit and glared back.

"So you would give up on Lavender, when she still has a bit flip's chance of finding herself someday?"

"She's not going to find herself reading pony tales over and over in her room," the gentlecolt muttered.

"And remind me, _who_ is the one who's afraid to let his daughter step outside the front door because she might get hurt?"

"I _know_ she'd get hurt!" Puddle Jumper scarcely reined his voice's volume in, biting his lip briefly as he looked up at Lavender's door, hoping she was asleep. "She… she's been nothing but hurt by others all her life."

Petunia sighed and turned away, heading back to the kitchen. Before cleaning the table, she one again faced her husband, who had just shut the door to their bedroom, retiring for the evening. She brought the dishes to the sink and turned the faucet on, speaking to herself under the sound of water running in the pipes.

"Nopony ever grew up without getting hurt, you know."


End file.
